


The Number of Their Hours

by azephirin



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cabin Fic, Ficlet, Gift Fic, Incest, M/M, Schmoop, Sibling Incest, Wincest - Freeform, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-13
Updated: 2010-02-13
Packaged: 2017-10-07 05:47:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/62023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azephirin/pseuds/azephirin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>Now winter nights enlarge the number of their hours.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	The Number of Their Hours

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [](http://rejeneration.livejournal.com/profile)[**rejeneration**](http://rejeneration.livejournal.com/), whose wish is my command. Title and summary from [this poem](http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15809) by Thomas Campion.

"You leave the faucet on?" Dean mumbles when Sam comes to bed. Below zero tonight, and it's easy for the pipes to freeze in a cabin this old.

"Just a drip," Sam says. Naked, he stretches out behind Dean. His brother is warm against him, the flannel sheets and old quilts tucked around them. He rests his other hand on Dean's hip; his fingers must be cold, because Dean fidgets, but then he's still again.

Everything is still: the frozen world outside, the dark interior of the cabin, silent except for the final cracks of the dying embers of the fire, the hush of their breathing.

Sam strokes Dean's side and hip idly, thinking he's fallen back asleep, but Dean leans back into him, and their mouths find each other in the dark: the heat of a kiss in the chilly air. Deep in the woods as they are, the darkness is total, but even without light Sam will always know where Dean is.

It's the same for Dean, he knows.

The kiss goes on, long and slow, and they turn, adjusting to each other as they always have. Sam's hips settle against Dean's, one of his thighs between Dean's legs, one of Dean's thighs between his, and it's so good to just kiss like this, rub gently against each other, both hard but neither urgent. Sam lays a hand over the side of Dean's face, over his cheekbone, and runs his thumb over Dean's lips. Dean's mouth opens and his tongue flicks around the fingertip as he sucks just enough to let Sam know what he could be doing to his cock.

But Sam whispers, "Like this," and Dean whispers back, "Yeah."

Sam's not sure how long they go, just rocking back and forth together, nothing to break the quiet except the occasional gasp or sigh. When Dean comes, he arches up against Sam, toes curling as it shudders through him and he breathes Sam's name. And it's the sudden warm slickness that sets Sam off, muffling his cry into Dean's shoulder by habit, though there's no one around for miles.

They sleep deep and close, and when they wake up, the world looks bright and new, crystalline in the winter sun.


End file.
